Love Is Murder
by justafoxhound
Summary: The Champion of Cyrodiil, retired to a life in the Dark Brotherhood, isolates herself after the painful events of Cheydinhal. Centuries later and with an artifact that hides her identity, she finds herself back in the dank halls of a Sanctuary in Skyrim, walked by the ghost of an old friend. Originally written for the Skyrim Kink Meme.
1. Prologue

Danasi was running away again. Skyrim was slowly falling into chaos, civil strife and the return of Dragons bringing fire and panic to its people. It was a province calling for a hero. She'd been that hero once before, back when Uriel Septim VII was murdered by the Mythic Dawn. _The Hero of Kvatch, The Champion of Cyrodiil._ Noble names, names one might think noble deeds had earned. Oh, to the common people who heard the stories through the songs of bards, the deeds were noble. Closing the Oblivion gates, defeating daedra, good versus evil. This valiant Dunmer woman had saved them all!

But Danasi knew better. Killing. That's all it was. She had agreed to help the Emperor partly in effort to repent for her actions that had landed her in jail, where he found her, to begin with: attempted murder. She had known her mother's new lover was mistreating her and, after finding her in a terrible state one day, resolved to poison his wine. But it was clumsy. He only fell sick, and the cause was traced back to her. The irony of becoming the people's champion through further killing bothered her every day.

She fell deeper into her role, death becoming all she knew. Martin Septim became a friend. He could see how the events were changing her, how she was withdrawing from the people around her and he tried to help. For a time he was her lifeline, the only link to sanity she felt she had. After he died she couldn't handle the fame. Surrounded by the congratulations of people who didn't understand- understand how it had been, understand her. None of them had spent anywhere close to the same amount of time in Oblivion as she had. They would sing of courageous victories over daedra and tell colourful tales of the acrid wastes they inhabited, but Danasi had truly seen into the heart of darkness. That darkness had seeped into her being during her many journeys through those wastes, she was sure of it.

But it was part of her now, she conceded. They wouldn't accept that from their hero, so she disappeared. She went to find her mother, to check on her and perhaps apologise, help her if she could. She was gone. Drank herself to death, the lover said. _Because of you,_ Danasi thought. He turned the blame on her, saying Nilera had turned to drink on finding out her daughter had been sent to prison for attempted murder. Danasi couldn't deny her mother wasn't happy about that, nor would she have been with what she had become now.

She killed the lover, successfully this time. Knives rarely failed.

She was no happier but the world was, apparently, a better place without daedra and wife beaters and mothers and friends. She might have faded out of existence after that had it not been for the robed man who visited her during the night. The Dark Brotherhood would welcome her, he said, and perhaps even understand her, she thought. So she fled, shedding the name 'Champion' and embracing death without shrouding it in heroics as ordinary people did.

And he did understand her. Many of her new family did. Some were born into it and some grew into it and some were forced by circumstances into it, killing. On the other end of the spectrum to her priest friend, Lucien helped her understand herself and her place within the world. Now it was he who was her link to sanity, her anchor. And she grew to love him. Martin had been her friend and tried to help her, but he had been fighting against the tide. Lucien accepted her, helped her accept herself, knew everything, understood. They were family.

As death comes for every man, it came for her new family.

And she ran again. Not immediately- the Dark Brotherhood had been her salvation, where else would she go? Who would have an ex-assassin? Mostly, she knew Lucien would want her to continue living by the Tenets, serving Sithis, rebuilding his broken family. And she tried. But she was adrift in a sea of deafening isolation once more. With Lucien gone, no one was there to reel her in, to hear. She wanted to kill Arquen, to kill herself, but she owed him more than that. She tried for so long to honour his memory, in search of redemption for failing him. To ease the pain. But it remained. She was no leader without her guide, she was lost.

She disappeared quietly, heading north away from Cyrodiil, her past. She spent a lot of time living- existing- in a fort on the edge of Skyrim. Clearing out the inhabitant bandits to claim it as her own fort of solitude, she remained unmolested for an unknown length of time until civil unrest drove her out.

In fact she had hidden from the world for around two hundred years. In that time she came across many curiosities. The one that interested her the most was an amulet, which appeared to be enchanted to disguise her identity. The magic it held seemed to distract people from familiar features, or shroud her in a cloud of ambiguity. She wasn't sure exactly how it worked but it seemed to allow her to be anonymous, a nobody. Just the way she liked it now.

But it could not hide her from the growing commotion she was encountering in this land. Now she was running again. She had no interest becoming embroiled in Skyrim's troubles, being the hero only ever brought more pain. But she was tired of running. Was there nowhere she could find peace? She moved west for a quick escape from Skyrim's events to Hammerfell and passed through a town called Falkreath. She heard rumours of a 'Black Door' which the townspeople feared greatly. Trying to ignore it she continued preparing for her departure, but she knew she would recognise that door if she saw it. She hadn't thought about whether Skyrim had any Sanctuaries until now.

She found the Sanctuary desecrated. Mild relief greeted her, but mainly sadness. _What had become of Cheydinhal after she deserted?_ Even so, she found herself delaying her trip. If the Dark Brotherhood still operated elsewhere in Skyrim, could she find a permanent home there? Despite her reservations she felt drawn to the place she had called home for a time. She had the amulet, at least. She would find them, if they were here, by performing the Black Sacrament.

It took a while, but somebody came.

With some convincing they allowed her to join after passing a test, much like the one Lucien gave her centuries ago. She was heading north, to Dawnstar.

* * *

Much colder than anywhere Danasi had ever experienced before, the winds of Dawnstar bit. The new sensation was a shock, as if waking from a dream. From the blizzard emerged the vision of the door, foreboding to most but familiar, almost comforting to her. Almost. With some trepidation she approached, nursing second thoughts on whether she was ready to return to this part of her life. _What life?_ she mocked herself.

"_What is life's greatest illusion?"_

She paused and took a breath. "Innocence, my brother."


	2. Introductions

"So you're the new one? Or old one, should I say? My man told me you were Dark Brotherhood before." Inside, the Listener addressed Danasi. He was a Breton, in his thirties or forties, probably, wiry in frame, dirty blond hair long enough to become messy and matted. He struck her as a sharp mind and direct, but she couldn't be sure, so long had she spent alone. She was no great judge of character any more.

"That is correct. I was an assassin in Cyrodiil, a long time ago." She was going to be vague, using the amulet to its full advantage. The Sanctuary was very different to the one she remembered. Large, more of a cave than the house-like build at Cheydinhal, draughty. But it reminded her of her fort, having all that space to herself, so she felt comfortable enough so far.

"And why did you leave?" The Breton's eyes, piercing blue, observed her while she contemplated her answer.

"It was... over. Cyrodiil, my family... everything was a mess. I couldn't do anything more. Starting fresh, I suppose."

The Breton raised an eyebrow. "Yes, there has been a lot of trouble in Cyrodiil. Your Sanctuary destroyed or abandoned, was it?"

Danasi nodded. _In a fashion_, she thought.

"My condolences. We are the last Sanctuary in Tamriel. We even host the Night Mother now since her tomb in Bravil was destroyed. Let's hope our luck is better here in sleepy Dawnstar, eh?"

Thankfully he didn't seem to want to press her story further. She'd worried he may have wanted many more details but they seemed to have had their own troubles to be concerned about. But the Night Mother, here? She tried to conceal her concern. Would the amulet work on her? She wouldn't count on it, nor on her mercy for abandoning her post as Listener. "The Night Mother... is _here?_"

"Exciting, wouldn't you say? Yes, she is in the coffin you passed on your way in. Feel free to go to her any time. Cicero brought her here as Keeper. He will be happy to talk to you about it. He is quite mad, but loyal, I can say that for certain. Now, what is your name?"

Grateful he did not insist she visit the Night Mother in his presence, she relaxed a little. "I am Nilera." She bowed her head respectfully.

"Well, my man tells me you passed his little test perfectly, so I suppose this is 'welcome home', then, sister." He placed some armour on the table in front of her, nodded curtly and swept out of the room. Danasi looked around the cavernous hall, fire casting dancing shadows on the banners hanging from the stone walls. Perhaps she could carve some sort of life here.

Climbing the stairs back to the entrance to gather her things from the horse she had ridden here, she paused at the sight of the coffin, standing in an alcove and surrounded by candles. Not much compared to her crypt back in Bravil, hidden in plain sight beneath the Lucky Old Lady. It was closed, yet she dared not move closer. What if she was in trouble for fleeing? ...What if the Night Mother spoke to her? She was not here to take back up the reins.

Hearing voices nearby she shook herself back to her senses and hurried outside.

The Listener was drawing a horse around, preparing to ride somewhere. "Ah, just in time to meet the Family steed. If you ever get the chance to ride her you'll be wondering why you ever bothered with ponies like that," he bellowed over the wind.

Looking at his mount, Danasi's heart skipped a beat.

_Those red eyes._

The Breton mistook her shock for awe, mounting Shadowmere and walking her closer. Danasi tried to shield herself behind her own horse, afraid of being revealed by her old mare.

"Don't be afraid, she won't bite unless one of us thinks it's a good idea. She _is_ quite demonic, however. Brilliant, don't you think?" Shadowmere began to snort and shake her head, digging at the ground in Danasi's direction. "Oh, she likes you. That's good news for you. Perhaps you encountered one another before? She has been with the Family for a long time. She must be quite old, if she does indeed age at all."

_Be vague, Danasi._ "I would remember such a thing."

He threw back his head in laughter. "I'm sure she is seared into the memory of many, an omen of death, the red-eyed demon horse!" He paused to utter some incantation and a flash of purple emanated from his palm moments before the ghostly form of a man glowed into existence. "_And_ this is no ordinary summoning spell- this is an assassin from times past. Quite the trio, are we not?"

Danasi nodded sagely while the man showed off a Listener's priveleges. While her head was bowed, she heard another voice, deep and rich.

"Ah, Shadowmere... my old and dear friend..."

She froze, staring at the snow by her feet. She... recognised that voice, didn't she? Looking up, she saw the blue-white apparition holding out a hand towards the horse. It was hooded and robed in clothes similar to that worn by the assassin who came to her after she performed the Black Sacrament.

The Listener was continuing. "Now _these_ two knew each other. Lucien Lachance- you must have heard of him, yes?"

All she could do was nod lamely as the Breton turned his horse and rode away, spectre following alongside.

* * *

Throwing her possessions onto a bed tucked in the corner of the sleeping quarters, Danasi rifled through a bag, pulling out some parchment. Settling against the walls and hugging her knees, she opened the letters, reading the words Lucien had written to her in his summons and dead drop orders. Much of the ink was smeared beyond legibility now, the parchment barely keeping in one piece, but she had looked after them as best she could. She would read them when feeling strong enough to recall only the good memories. Mostly, though, they would make her feel more alone and guilty and she feared them disintegrating completely one day, so she simply looked after them, folded away, as though she kept a piece of his soul with her, protected, immortalised.

She had not gone so mad, had she? She'd seen the ghost, _heard_ his voice. The Listener had _named_ him. Lucien's soul really was here.

* * *

_**Author note: **In this story, the Listener is not also the Dragonborn, but has been through the events in the Dark Brotherhood quest line from the game._


	3. Memories

Danasi's world for the next few weeks revolved around the ghost- Lucien. She couldn't get enough, this resurrection of the last thing in her long memory that made her happy. But it was bitter-sweet; the resurrection was only half complete, his ethereal form a glaring reminder that he was dead, of what had happened centuries ago... of the sight that confronted her in that farmhouse.

Even two hundred years later, the image was painfully clear in her mind.

She would linger whenever the Listener was around, who was often accompanied by Lucien's shade, watching the shimmering blue memory as subtly as she could, closing her eyes when he spoke, trying as she might to transport herself back to his time. How could she forget that voice? She ached to glimpse his face. From a distance and the spectral glow she couldn't discern his features. After she gave up one day, too afraid to move closer, she realised she couldn't even remember what he looked like.

Her most treasured memory, dearest friend, and the only way she could picture him was _dead_. Truly, the gods were cruel.

Drained of tears long ago, she retreated down to the training room, dark, empty, familiar; she had utilised the training room in her fort often, venting anger and sadness through violence. Here, she returned to the life she knew, thrashing the dummy targets with increasing ferocity until the pain had numbed, resting afterwards in the corner, feeling safer with the two walls against her back.

Still her mind was full of questions. Was he immortalised as he was from their time, or had he existed for centuries as she had? Did ghosts even acknowledge the passage of time? He didn't seem to truly converse with the Listener most of the time, perhaps he was just a shadow of his former self, merely an ethereal realisation of the skills and statistics of the man. But he seemed _there_, his memories, his dark mirth... or was that just her hoping? Did he remember her? Would he recognise her? She was not sure she was anything more than a shadow of her former self by now, either.

Footsteps approached the chamber. The Listener and his spectral assassin. Danasi rose to her feet wearily, still slightly out of breath from her exertions. "Listener," she greeted courteously.

"Ah, the new one... How is it we are so often in the same room as one another? One might say you were taking quite an interest in me!" He threw back his head and laughed, his straggly hair falling from his forehead as he did so.

Danasi, missing the joke- she had not partaken in humour for a long time- cocked her head slightly and frowned. Normally she would run to her safe place, but the training room seemed to have become that place.

The Listener gave her a queer look on noticing her glances toward the ghost and added, "Or is it my spectre that takes your interest...?"

Danasi blushed on realising her error. She quickly recovered. "Oh my, no... it's just... a legend of the Dark Brotherhood... most intriguing..."

She began to straighten herself out and prepare to leave when the Breton interjected. "Come now, I only jest. You may approach if you wish, I mean to train now. He may speak with you if the link to this realm is strong enough." He beckoned her over to the ghost, that for which she yearned and yet feared, and left them for his training.

With feet as heavy as lead Danasi walked slowly over to the spectre, clutching at the amulet as she went. The link seemed to be strong enough, for he turned his attention to her as she drew close. Her breath caught under his gaze, expecting him to call her name, guilt suddenly welling up inside her. Unable to meet his eye she directed her gaze at- through- the rest of his body, speaking rehearsed words. "It is an honour, Mr Lachance. I have... heard much about your exploits." It felt like an eternity waiting to see if the spectre responded. Standing here at the precipice, holding back all her emotions, trying to hide her true feelings, her true identity from Lucien and everyone in the Sanctuary, _just standing_ in front of him, unsure if he had even heard her never mind recognised her, she wanted simultaneously for him to take her hands and greet her as _Silencer_ and for the ground to open up below her feet.

Deep, rich, speaking _to her_ came the reply, sending her heart racing at three times the previous pace. "Is that so? Then hopefully you have learned enough to beware treachery and avoid a similar fate as mine."

Steeling herself to remain calm and casual she continued, staring anywhere but his face. "...Most definitely... but your reputation is more than just your... end, I promise you." She kept her gaze low, hoping to appear merely respectful.

"Ah, I find this news pleasing. You may relax, child of darkness. You've no need to be nervous. We are all family. I merely continue our work from the Void. One day even you will serve our Dread Father as I do now."

He used to call her 'child of Sithis', didn't he? "It would not be too soon," she replied honestly. He didn't seem to know her, so she raised her eyes to look upon his face. "My name is Nilera." It took all the energy she had to maintain composure as she took in once more the face of the man she'd loved, served, learnt so much from and been unable to say goodbye to. Had she not been concentrating so hard, she may have remembered that Lucien once knew the name she had given.

"Nilera..." She thought his look changed slightly, only for a moment, but could not be sure- an ethereal face was harder to read than a living one, and she had not had much recent practise at either. "The name seems familiar... perhaps I knew somebody by it, once. It can be difficult to pinpoint memories in the Void... everything merges as one at times."

Danasi then realised she had told Lucien about her mother. He would know the name. Her heart was pounding, she worried the Breton would hear it. She had to leave before she gave something away. Much as she wanted to keep talking, she could tell her eyes were saying more than an Initiate's should. "I... I would be honoured, again, if that is the case. I... I thank you for your attention, Mr Lachance. I would love to speak more with you, but I must leave now, I have duties."

"Of course. Sithis guide you, sister." He nodded in polite farewell.

She returned the gesture as coolly as able and once more counted an eternity until she was up the stairs out of the room. She was a turmoil. Her Speaker was here- a ghost, but it was him, and she had spoken with him. His words still rang in her head, just minutes old, so fresh and exciting and real compared to the letters. But what of his last comment? Had he suspected her, remembered her? The amulet certainly worked on him, he merely commented on the familiarity of the name, it could happen with many names. But that look... _had it been a look?_ If he had remembered, he hadn't seemed angry. She hoped that meant he would not be unwelcoming if she revealed herself. _No_, she wasn't going to reveal herself. She couldn't. She wanted so very badly to be reunited, she had missed him... but she had failed him. Too late to save him... and if he only knew how she had abandoned everything... she couldn't.

_But that look._


	4. Nostalgia

Danasi took to ensuring she happened to be around when the Listener was spending time in the Sanctuary. The amulet seemed to work equally on Lucien as everybody else, so she grew bold enough-or addicted enough- to request a word with the spectre when possible, out of interest in the legend's stories. She couldn't reveal herself to Lucien, she had decided. What if he thought he was wrong to trust her after she killed Ungolim, that she had let him go to Applewatch knowing his fate? And the shame of her desertion... his only mistress was the Night Mother, she did not believe he would forgive her abscondment because of her heartbreak. The best way to honour him would have been to continue serving the Night Mother, building the family, enforcing the Tenets, sending souls to Sithis...

So she would simply ask him about the old times from behind the magic of the amulet, an interested sister, allowing him to talk at length about his lifetime. She heard some of the old Lucien- the living version- when he spoke of his personal kills, the familiar relish creeping into his tone, and she smiled. She was happy in those moments, sitting with nothing in her world but his voice, speaking of times they were together and more she'd never before heard. But it was a restless happiness overshadowed by her anonymity, unable to truly experience contentment while the desire to greet him burned constantly inside, dampened only by the guilt.

"What is it like... in the Void?" she asked tentatively one night, huddled in a chair by the fire while others ate and spoke over the table in the main room.

The ghost folded his arms and contemplated the question. "I am closer to Sithis, here. I am able to continue serving in the mortal world through a bond with the Listener, but existence in the Void is... pure. We should not fear death, for we join our siblings in the cold embrace of our dark mother and father."

Danasi watched him thoughtfully. "And... well, I have encountered spirits... haunting the places they died... they retain memories of how they died, or they are like a pure memory of the events. But you... do you...?" She could not work out how to ask about his murder.

He understood what she was thinking anyway. "There is no pain in the Void, sister. I... remember, but my soul was freed to kneel at the feet of our Dread Father in death, as in life. It does not matter how one dies, the Void welcomes all those who serve it."

Danasi swallowed and looked into the fire. "I'm glad," she said quietly. His soul was not in constant torment as she had worried. She couldn't have lived with herself if she had sentenced him to an eternity of pain. A faint smile crossed her lips as she glanced across at him with glazed eyes. _He was... okay._

His eyes met hers, searching and wistful. "You remind me of a protégé I knew... long ago..."

She should turn away, brush it off, disappear, but she couldn't look away. _Protégé?_ When he had made her Silencer for her "talents" she had not responded so well. She hadn't _wanted_ to be good at killing. The Dark Brotherhood had given her a place to belong, but it didn't mean she wanted to _excel._ But Lucien had had a way of making her see things differently, become proud of her work and, yes, live up to his expectations of her as his student. _Protégé._

She drank in the look. She should turn away. "Oh, I doubt I'm anything like them..." she murmured truthfully. Those nostalgic eyes... she couldn't resist. "A protégé?"

He looked through her for a moment. "A woman I recruited. A Dunmer, actually. Quite skilled, a good heart, but... one defiled by the world. She was my personal assassin for a time. She thought she was ruined by taking life but... she understood love _and_ death- the two are so often intertwined. She was perfect for the Dark Brotherhood, if she would only have accepted it... I do wonder what became of her..." He turned his attention to the fire, ruminating.

Danasi stared at the side of his face, a mere few feet away but utterly untouchable. Tears had filled her eyes for the first time in centuries. She turned to the fire and attempted to blink them away, trying to subtly catch with her hand those that escaped down her cheeks. She said no more after that and Lucien seemed to pay her no more heed.

After a while those who were dining left, the Listener beckoned his spectre and Danasi was alone by the fire. The tears returned and this time flowed freely.

* * *

The Dunmer woman was on the Listener's mind. Something bothered him about her. She was just so... _vague._ He didn't need the minutest details of her life story; naturally, assassins had a penchant for secrecy and the journey members took to the Brotherhood was often a story they were not willing to share. But he did not know when she had been a member, which chapter, who she had known, what she had done. Babette had never encountered her. She took only the most menial contracts despite being highly able. (He'd have trusted her with some high profile targets, if he trusted her). She rarely spoke with anyone except his spectral assassin. _Perhaps she misses the old ways, her glory days_ he supposed. He'd studied her discreetly once or twice while she conversed with Lucien. Nothing much struck him as suspicious. She asked questions one would ask of a ghost or an expert in one's field. She always wore an amulet, enchanted- he could sense the magical aura, being well trained in the arcane himself- but there was no Tenet against that. Lucien had expressed no concern over the woman's agenda, but neither offered any further information on her identity.

Reserved, private, misfit. Ordinarily he would not think anything of a professional killer possessing these traits. Living among ordinary society demanded it, and his own people had had difficulty adapting to the return of tradition with the arrival of the Night Mother. The Dunmer could just be finding it troublesome adapting to the Dark Brotherhood _à la_ Skyrim. However, given the trouble back in Falkreath with Astrid and Maro, the Listener was choosing to be extra vigilant about who he allowed into his Sanctuary.

"Lucien, I need your help. I want to keep this small and I know you have the Brotherhood's best interests at heart. Come with me."


	5. Reflections

"_The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress." Danasi couldn't even begin to describe the terrible deed as 'progress'. "From this moment forward you will walk in the shadows as... my Silencer."_

Oh, she did. But not without a fight. Killing her own- how had he convinced her to do it? She'd considered walking, but there was nowhere else to go. It had become her home. She hadn't liked what she had become, but it seemed it was her lot in life- death. Whether she liked what he was saying or not, she always listened to him. Her home had been in danger, her guide offering her only one path to save it.

"_Your new life has begun." _

She'd felt sick, being praised and rewarded for her latest kills. _Why her?_ She'd fought him. She hadn't wanted a promotion, a gift, recognition- she wasn't the Champion any more. Death wasn't glamorous.

So why did she choose to take that new life? _Because he broke you,_ Danasi thought to herself as she sat in the alchemy garden in the Dawnstar Sanctuary. _You had no other option, it crippled you, and it made you his._

_No,_ another voice said, _you were already his. Without him you were going mad, he made you accept your lot. That acceptance was complete when you agreed to purify the Sanctuary,_ that _was where you chose._

Her fingers trailed through the petals of a Deathbell flower growing in the soil. If only she hadn't tried to poison the wine, her life might have been different... or was it always fate? Lucien hadn't believed in fate. Everyone had choice over their actions, he's said... but there were those who belonged to certain life paths and they usually found their way to them. He'd believed Danasi to belong to the Dark Brotherhood, even if she hadn't. She believed the poison was her mistake, the Oblivion events her ruining, and the Dark Brotherhood the only place she could live out her life as what she had become. But she had _wanted_ to kill the lover, Lucien had said. She believed he deserved to die, just as the people believed those she killed as Champion deserved to die. Who was right? An impossible question. You could only live by your own beliefs, her Speaker had taught. Living by anything else only brings conflict, such as Danasi's issue with the people's celebration of death when dealt by Danasi the Champion but not by Danasi the Vengeful Daughter. Her beliefs would always have guided her to her path and to the Dark Brotherhood, Lucien had said.

She didn't like it but... he made sense. She _had_ wanted to kill the lover. And she came back to finish the job the poison failed. If only it had worked... what then? _Mother still alive and able to watch, mortified, as her daughter became a murderer and assassin?_

"For a poison to kill swiftly- beautifully- it must be created carefully. The poisonous plant alone may be too weak to kill, and it will most certainly taste foul, alerting the target to foul play. The deadly element of the plant must be extracted, refined, to create a more potent formula capable of killing in only small doses. It must then be disguised or made tasteless, so a target will happily consume the entire dose within their drink or food. The sight of one marked for death greedily swallowing their doom is... satisfying. Such a perfect recipe for death is difficult to create, though, dear child..."

She toyed with the Nightshade, remembering glimpses of Lucien's alchemy advice. She'd never gotten around to creating a perfect poison; why bother when her mother's abuser's death was just as satisfying at the point of a blade? Lucien had laughed at that. Each assassin had their preferred methods, and his protégé was beginning to own hers. Having her accept Sithis into her heart would be his greatest success.

She plucked one of the flowers to keep with her things. Maybe it was not her fate, but just... her.

A discordant humming roused her from her reflections. That... _jester,_ Cicero, was skipping up the stairs and bouncing over to the Night Mother's coffin. She'd managed to avoid a full blown encounter with him so far, just introductions. Close as he seemed to the Night Mother, she was wary of catching his attention.

Unfortunately, today he required use of the garden. "Oh! Need to get flowers for mother... pretty, pretty flowers..." He was rambling to himself as he sashayed across the hall. Danasi remained seated, leaning against the wall, not much feeling like making a quick escape. She waited for him to notice her, twirling the flower in her hands.

"Ah! Sister! Cicero did not see you there! Are you picking flowers for the Night Mother as well? She likes Nightshade... I think... I mean, she hasn't _told_ me, of course, sweet mother never tells poor Cicero anything... obviously, she only speaks to the Listener, of course! As it should be! Cicero only wishes he knew he was bringing the right flowers!"

Danasi paused to see that he was quite finished and responded plainly. "Hello, brother. I'm just enjoying the garden. Nightshade sounds like a good choice, to me."

The jester literally leapt with joy and began to dance on the spot. "Oh, sister is most kind! I will take this Nightshade right here for our Mother now." With barely contained jubilance he gathered some of the plant and shuttled it across to the shrine area, laying it ceremoniously amongst the candles surrounding the ornate stone coffin.

_The coffin, somewhere dark, dusty, black robes, nightshade scattered among five small skeletons, the apparition anointing her as Listener..._ The memory hadn't faded, meeting her second mother. Perhaps she was her true mother, she who said she had claimed Danasi's soul from birth and bestowed upon her the highest honour in the Brotherhood. Her birth mother would have been distraught that she joined the guild of assassins, how would the Night Mother react to her abandoning it?

"Cicero," she called out across the room. The jester bounded over, full of interest. "I understand you were the 'Keeper'?"

"Yes! Yes! I tend to Mother... clean her... oil her... protect her... make sure nobody disrespects her coffin, yes..."

Danasi continued, keeping a straight face despite the unsettling tone he took with those words. "And you did that before? Before you came here?"

The jester's tone dropped, melancholic as he recalled events. "Yes... the Listener died, sweet Alisanne, and we had to save Mother from her crypt, or she would have burned! Cicero was appointed Keeper, to look after our Lady until a new Listener was found, and I would know if they were the true Listener, or a liar, yes! With the Binding Words, I would know!" His crazed tone died again as he continued. "But, there was no Listener, she would not speak... even to me! For so long I tried... so, so long... until everyone was gone. Everyone! Gone! Cyrodiil was ravaged by strife, nowhere was safe, and even Cheydinhal was falling! So I brought mother to the last Sanctuary, in Skyrim. And a new Listener was chosen! Haha! Our Lady is back!"

Danasi ignored the twirl the man was executing to replay his words in her head. So there had been another Listener. She hadn't expected the Brotherhood to halt forever because of her, but it eased her worries somewhat that she was replaced and business continued. She tried to win back the man's attention. "You were at Cheydinhal?"

"Yes! Cicero had to leave Bruma and joined Cheydinhal... it was home!... until everybody died... then it was just Mother and I.. for so, so long..."

"What happened to everybody?" Danasi asked quietly, remembering the Purification.

"They disappeared, one by one... bad contracts, riots, bandits- bandits! An assassin killed by a common rogue in the streets! How sad! Hahahaha!"

Danasi breathed a small sigh of relief and her brow furrowed slightly as she thought of her time at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Gone now, apparently. She let Cicero's laughter over a sibling's death slide. The man was mad, after all. All that time alone tending a dead woman he was devoted to who wouldn't speak to him... she wouldn't question whether she wasn't mad, also. "That is sad. I am sorry for what has happened to our Family. But we have a home here now, don't we?" She sympathised with the fellow. She was both trying to offer some comfort and seeking it herself.

"We do, sister! We do! And how wonderful it is!" He turned around suddenly and hurried over to the coffin, muttering to himself again. "Must tend to mother... get all those hard to reach places..."

Danasi extracted herself from the area before being witness to this act, wondering if other members of the Sanctuary observed her with similar hesitancy when they saw her speaking to Lucien's ghost. If this man now had a home here, she could have one also. He had endured much and lost many, albeit going mad in the process, but he remained faithful to his family and it had come through for him. She should have been stronger. She could start now and repay the family, her family.


	6. Truths

The Listener found the Dunmer woman down in the training room. He requested the other Initiate present leave them in private for a moment and approached alone from the staircase. "Nilera, I've been looking for you."

"Listener?" The elf halted, watching the Initiate leave.

"I must request a word, please." He motioned toward the table and chairs in the corner and waited for her to move. She paused a moment longer, then sheathed her blade and took a seat. He took care to usher her into the furthermost chair by the back wall, taking the one opposite, between her and the rest of the Sanctuary, himself.

"Is there a problem?"

He folded his hands in front of him and rested his forearms on the table. "No problem as such. I am trying to prevent one, actually. I merely wish to speak with you- about you. What brought you here."

She sat a moment then responded. "It was you who found _me_ today, Listener. Perhaps you have the interest."

It took him a moment before he realised she was referring to his earlier jibe about her. Odd, he'd never heard her joke before. He laughed briefly. "I wish my interest was simply amorous. No, I'm afraid I have concerns. I am hoping you can allay them for me."

He watched the Dunmer shift in her chair, face falling ever so slightly. "Concerns?" she asked heavily.

"The Brotherhood here has changed a lot since I joined. There was jealousy, treachery, blood, we were almost wiped out. Now I am in charge I will not allow this to happen again."

"I am no stranger to this," she stated plainly.

"Then you must understand my caution, my need to know who my members are, lest we suffer any more." He let the comment hang in the air to see what it may draw from her.

She paused a long while before asking, "What do you wish to know?"

"Who were you before you arrived here?"

The woman cast her eyes down to the table. "I was nobody. Just a murderer."

Vague, the Listener thought. "A Murderer?" That was the lowest rank from the old ways, according to Cicero. "No, no, you are far too skilled not to have been anything more. What rank did you obtain?"

"I... rank? Oh, nothing important. I just killed, Listener."

She didn't want to talk about this. _Interesting._ "Nilera, I know dark elves are commonly morose creatures, but your self flagellation is something I've never seen outside of religious lunatics- and then not even Cicero. And I don't see you prostrating in front of the Night Mother, so it's something else. You are either very talented or were very well trained, yet you busy yourself with low profile revenge jobs. Why?"

The elf was still looking down, shifting around more now. "I don't wish to be the hero, sir. I just came home, that's all."

The Listener sat back in his seat, exasperated. This elf was hiding something. "Initiate. If you hold some shame, tell me. There are ways to absolve the issue. I cannot have you in my Sanctuary if I do not trust you around the Family."

The woman looked up in alarm, distress evident in her face now. "Listener, please... I have no ill will. I will be a true sister, I swear it."

"I cannot trust your word without knowledge you are true to it, Nilera." He waited for her to cave.

She slouched back in her chair, head down again. "...I cannot. I fear if I do..."

The Listener sighed. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. He was suspicious but not uncaring- one of his goals was to build the Brotherhood's strength, expand back into other Sanctuaries. He was very happy to welcome siblings from earlier days, their experience would be invaluable and he believed in following the traditions of the Night Mother. So it was with reluctance that he subtly cast a strong charm spell on the Dunmer woman while she worried into her hands. He leant across the table again, taking a less interrogative tone. "Nilera, you are skilled, part of the old ways. I could really use your experience to help our Family grow. Where did you work from, back in Cyrodiil?"

The elf struggled with her thoughts for a moment and looked up, an expression of acquiescence seeping into her features. "Cheydinhal."

"And when was this? You said a long time ago, how long?"

"I'm not sure... it was after the Oblivion crisis, when... Martin died."

"Martin... Septim?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded, bowing her head.

That was two hundred years ago. _By Sithis,_ she must have been a brilliant assassin to survive that long without getting caught out. "Nilera, that was two centuries ago. The Cheydinhal Sanctuary was only abandoned when Cicero left. When did you come to Skyrim?"

She stirred a little, probably sensing this was something she would not say if not under the influence of the Listener's magic. "Oh, I... I wasn't there so long... so almost two centuries ago, then."

The Listener frowned. If his history served him correctly, there was no great trouble that could have driven a Sanctuary to abandon its location near the beginning of the Fourth Era. "What have you been doing in Skyrim until you came here?"

She was becoming more troubled, but he knew the spell would yet hold. "Nothing... nothing, really... just... hiding."

"Hiding from what? What happened in Cheydinhal?"

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, eventually speaking, quietly. "The traitor... I had to kill everyone... But he tricked us and I... I killed the Black Hand and... and my Speaker..."

_By Sithis..._ The Listener could put the pieces together. Lucien had told him the tale of his death. It was the same story from the same time. She had to be his Silencer, the one who performed the Purification and was tricked by the traitor into killing other Brotherhood members. What a coincidence she turned up in his Sanctuary! "Nilera, I know this story. You were at the rank of Silencer, were you not?"

She nodded.

"And you were Lucien Lachance's Silencer, yes?"

She nodded again, composure cracking.

This was unbelievable. The Listener shook his head and continued with incredulity. "You have been speaking with his ghost. Why does he not recognise you?"

She held up the amulet she wore. "It seems to hide my identity."

"I see. And why are you hiding your identity from him?"

"...I cannot tell him what happened after his death," she said with some finality, sinking ever further into her chair.

The Listener leant back again. "Then I must pause before we go any further. Lucien has probably heard all of this, so far." He raised his voice and called to the other exit, "Is that so, Lucien?"

The ghostly assassin stepped into view from the staircase on the other side of the room. "Indeed, Listener," he rumbled sombrely.

"I'm sorry," the Breton turned back to the elf. "I required assistance. I cannot say I anticipated a situation like this."

Despite her dusty grey skin, the colour had drained from the Dunmer's cheeks, replaced by an unhealthy pallor. Her deep red eyes became perfect mirrors to the ghostly white glow as her pupils dilated. Frozen as a statue for a second before her reactions took hold, she stumbled out of the chair, back against the wall as she stammered in rising panic.  
"No, no, no, this isn't fair, you tricked me!"

The Listener rose from his chair, ready to catch a fleeing elf. Speaking softly, as calming a horse, he moved to block her path back up the stairs. "Nilera, sit back down. We'll finish talking and everything will be fine."

This only seemed to distress her more, eyes darting this way and that as she groped her way along the wall, attempting to create distance between herself and the situation that had arisen. "No, no it isn't fair, it isn't fair!" She made a dash to escape, deftly skirting around the Listener, toppling an archery target on the way, finding her feet again quickly as she careened across the stone floor. Lucien, who had remained still besides stepping into the room at this point, moved so swiftly she could not have hoped to evade him. He caught her in his arms, pinning her close even as she thrashed in vain hopes of breaking free. "No, no, I can't, I can't do this, this isn't fair..." Her words gradually became punctuated by sobbing as her struggles ebbed away. She would have sunk to the floor if not for the ghost's hold of her, meaning she crumpled into his chest, fists still feebly pounding in a hollow show of dissent.

"Danasi," the spectre called and waited. The elf gained a little control of her sobs eventually and looked up at the ghost. _Her real name, then,_ the Listener surmised. Lucien continued to look at her expectantly and a few moments later she lifted the amulet over her head, dropping it on the stones by her feet.

The Listener felt as though he was watching a rather private moment so retreated quietly to the alcove by the stairs.

"Dear sister... it is good to see you." He just made out Lucien's soft purr and saw the elf's head drop back onto his chest before they- he- was out of view.

* * *

Danasi shook in the ghost's cold grasp. He was not solid, it was more of a force, cool and unfamiliar, sending shivers through her. At his words she leant into him, unable to vocalise how good it felt to see him again, too. To be seen by him, finally. Now she was calming down she noticed the firm grip he still had of her shoulders, how close she was to him, how she was resting her head on him for comfort in a manner she had never ventured when he was alive, how good it felt despite what a strange sensation it was to touch a ghost, how she had brought her own hands up around his form in embrace. She closed her eyes and clung to him, bidding the moment last forever and she would never have to tell him why she was here in the first place.

She didn't know how long it had been when the dream finally ended, his hands gently urging her back. "Danasi."

Resisting his push at first, she reluctantly let go and stood back from him slightly.

"What became of you, dear child?"

The elf could interpret his question in many different ways and chose to answer with regards to the last time she saw him alive, when he commanded her to bring evidence of the traitor to Applewatch. "I came, Lucien, I did... but I was too late, I'm so sorry..."

Lucien regarded her for a moment, dropping one hand from her shoulder and raising the other to her face. "I didn't doubt you, Silencer. Do not punish yourself- they were waiting for me. Nothing could have carried you fast enough."

Danasi met his gaze, thankful for the kind words, the backwards sort of relief the news brought. "It was Bellamont. I gave him a slow death." She managed that for him, at least.

"A traitor deserves nothing less," Lucien replied with pride, removing his hand as Danasi remembered venting her horror over finding her Speaker's mutilated corpse through her own torture of Bellamont. But not before she allowed him to slaughter most of the Black Hand, who believed and helped him, watching with grim pleasure.

Silence for a moment until the Silencer spoke quietly. "I... I buried you- your...body, by the farm... I don't know if you wanted to know that." She shook her head, embarrassed and unsure if she should have spoken and trying to dispel the building tears.

The silence thickened as she sensed Lucien regarding her while he pondered how she must have found him, perhaps beyond what he experienced consciously. "It is a comfort to know. Thank you," he replied.

Danasi couldn't control herself any more and began to cry. Thinking of that day that ceased to fade in her memory, how she wished it never ended the way it did, how she wouldn't be here had he not died- she couldn't remain stoic under the weight of it. She would never have left, deserted, would not be laden with the guilt and the dread she felt currently for what she knew was coming.

"Calm yourself, sister. The Brotherhood survives, I am with our Dread Father, there is no need for sorrow any longer."

She could do nothing but shake her head as she wiped the tears as they fell.

"Danasi."

"Why can't everything be like before?" she wept meekly, more to herself than Lucien.

"Before what?"

"Please, don't," she begged.

"Danasi."

She stalled. "Before you died..."

The ghost paused, possibly considering if she had simply grieved him for two hundred years. "What happened?"

"Please..." She shook her head.

"Why did you leave Cheydinhal?"

"I can't..."

"You must." He clasped her upper arms again to prevent her backing away. "What is it you hide from me? Tell me."

There was no way out. Not now his hands were on her again. She couldn't tear herself away from that, though she knew it would not last long. "I just had to go," she forced out quietly.

A hand found her chin, forcing her face up to Lucien's. She kept her gaze from him as long as she could for she knew he would read her eyes in an instant. She couldn't manage it long.

"You feel guilty. Why?"

"_Because_ I left, Lucien."

He merely waited for her to elaborate. He had always had a way with or without words.

"Because... nothing happened, as such, but I left, and I know I shouldn't have, and I know you will despise me." His silence was simply a signal for her to continue enlightening him. Danasi was composed now but numb. There was no way out so she told all. The words came calmly as though she was watching another. "I found them at the farm, but I couldn't prove your innocence, they wouldn't listen. They made us go to the Night Mother's crypt, to seek a Listener, and there Bellamont killed most of them. Then the Night Mother made me Listener. And I should have been honoured, and I should have stayed and rebuilt, but I wasn't and I didn't... I didn't know how to do it... working with that woman, or any of it, alone. So I left... I just hid. I was weak... I failed you... I'm sorry..."

The coldness of Lucien's touch disappeared from her arms, as she had expected, transferring instead to his voice. "You... abandoned the Sanctuary? After all we did, you left?"

Danasi managed the slightest nod, studying her feet intently.

"And you were the _Listener?_" His tone sounded almost impressed but mired in disappointment. He had spent many hours teaching her of the Night Mother and Sithis, imploring her to commit to the traditions and accept her dark family into her heart. To see her become Listener would surely have been the ultimate prize for his efforts. He paused to contemplate his own words, continuing quietly. "You're sorry you failed _me?_ Sister, you failed the _Brotherhood_."

It was true. She nodded in solemn assent. "I know... I know now, I want to repay it now, I really do."

Anger began to invade his tone. "Repay? You were the Listener. _The Listener,_ Danasi! And you walked away from that honour, bestowed upon you by the Night Mother herself? Did I teach you no better? Do you have any respect, _any_ reverence for our family?"

Danasi hung her head in shame but did not protest. She deserved it. "I just didn't know how... you always guided me, I needed you, but-"

"Sithis take you! The _Brotherhood_ needed _you_. You and the Night Mother could have built Cheydinhal anew, but you abandoned it- and when it needed you the most! That is not something you can make up for."

This was also true. But it had not been the Brotherhood she had joined. The Initiates were strangers, Arquen Lucien's killer. Even the Night Mother had known the calamity would happen and allowed it. Danasi had felt betrayed herself, all her true family dead despite all the loyalty she had displayed. "I tried, Lucien, I tried..."

"Perhaps you should have tried harder. The Night Mother does not pick Listeners idly," Lucien interrupted sharply.

Danasi's composure began to crumble under the reality of his displeasure. "Lucien, _please_, I _loved you_, I couldn't just turn around and _carry on_ like nothing-"

"Well that is where you went wrong. You should have placed your love in Sithis and your family. Abandoning the Night Mother, abandoning the Brotherhood to drift with no Listener... it is tantamount to betrayal. To think I called you sister... I am ashamed. I ought to take my blade to you like any traitor."

For a moment she thought he might, flinching as he left with a noise of disgust, replaying what were likely his last ever words to her in her head. She sunk to the floor. She had deserved it, she had known it would happen like that, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

* * *

_An elf in love with a ghost, hadn't expected that_ the Listener thought. He re-entered the training room and found the woman a crying heap in the centre of the floor.

She was unresponsive for a time, but eventually she let him help her up and usher her down the hall to her sleeping quarters. "Am I a traitor? What are you going to do with me?" she asked meekly from the corner of her bed.

"You are safe, Nil- Danasi. Believe it or not, I can understand your actions. Love, grief, they can blind all of us to our better judgement. I would not call you a traitor." He remembered the events in his own life that had lead him here. Mistakes? One might call them that in hindsight. But fuelled by love, he would never regret those actions themselves.

"Thank you," the elf's voice, low and hoarse, roused him from his thoughts. "And hatred," she added.

"Hm?" he inquired.

"I had to share a Sanctuary with one of those who killed him. It was near impossible every day not to break a Tenet."

"Then you are a better person than I," the Breton commented. "Has the Night Mother spoken to you?" he asked almost casually as he leant on the table edge across from her.

The elf paused for a moment before speaking. "I have not been close to her, yet."

"I see. Well, get some rest. I will speak with you about this when you are less distressed."  
He stood and headed for the door.

"I don't wish to take over or anything, sir," the woman called after him.

"I'm sure. Rest," he called back.

He strode back up to the main level. This Dunmer had climbed rank by rank to Listener. She was incredibly skilled and had learned the traditional ways under Lucien's own rule. He wanted her for his Brotherhood. But right now she was broken and his ghost would leave her that way. This would never do.

* * *

_**Author **is not sure she is __happy with how this came out but there it is._


	7. Bonds

Several days after the less than happy reunion between his newest and most deceased member, the Listener decided Lucien had had enough time to digest the information and would possibly listen to his Listener. The ghost had been uncharacteristically quiet and unhelpfully gung-ho on this last business venture, and today the Breton found him still outside the Sanctuary since their return, brooding by his old mare.

"By the Night Mother, Lucien, it's time you dealt with this situation. If anything, long journeys home like that are incredibly dull without one of your tales."

The spectre simply stared out to sea, standing beside Shadowmere. "You may mock, Listener, but there is nothing more to be done. The woman deserted the family. Why you keep her here, I do not know."

He had confined the elf to the Sanctuary. She was not a prisoner, but he did not want her running off on him. "You've had plenty of opportunity, why haven't you slain her as a traitor? I have not commanded the contrary."

The ghost paused before speaking, almost irritably. "The Dread Father does not desire it."

"Ah, so she is of use to us yet."

"I wish no further involvement with her. I cannot see what use she could be given her lack of loyalty."

"You know full well she _could_ be an excellent addition. As it stands, both of my best people are not much use to me at all as they currently sulk and live in the past."

"My Listener?" An innocuous comment as the ghost turned to look at the Breton, but the Listener detected the warning tone that edged it.

Unfazed, he elaborated. "Despite how you feel about what she did you know she is good. It was two hundred years ago and a damn sight more has happened since to destroy most of the Brotherhood. This is the last Sanctuary and I need her _now_ to regrow this organisation. I want that Silencer you've spoken of, and I want you without this jilted gloom surrounding you. We'd be a damn fine team if you would bloody go and make things right with her."

Lucien looked away again. "The Silencer is gone. That much is clear from her desertion."

The Listener stood firm and crossed his arms. "She's still there. That's why she feels bad. That's why she's _back._ I'm not condoning what she did but I want to give her a chance here. I know you do, too."

The ghost cocked his head, giving the Listener a sidelong, questioning look.

"I _was_ there the other day, Lucien. You were pleased to find her here and now you're frustrated and sad that she gave you need to be angry. She did wrong and hurt your professional pride at the same time, you had to disown her, I understand. I'd wager you don't want it to be like this, though."

Lucien's presence seemed to grow colder, despite the biting coastal winds. "You have many thoughts on the matter," he stated in a manner as if to say he shouldn't.

"I'm saying cut her some slack. Do you know how I came to be here? I had a wife, you know, and a son. He was framed and sent to the gallows. The scum didn't even have the decency to kill with his own hands. Martha begged me not to, but I took my sweet revenge. I told her I'd get out of jail and take her away with me, but she wouldn't have me any more. See, I'd still done it even though I knew it was not what she wanted, such is the madness of grief. I escaped prison and High Rock via a ship to Windhelm, and that's where I got tangled with the Dark Brotherhood, such as my mind was inclined at the time."

Lucien was looking at him as if to ask whether this had any point.

"She holds a hell of a lot of guilt, Lucien. She didn't leave on a whim, she loved you, she said so. She was hurting, this is a lot to take on in that state."

The questioning looks faded somewhat under the knowing air of the Listener's final statement.

"I'm not telling you to be friends again, though I'm not sure you need to worry about that after your chat, anyway..." he raised a subtle eyebrow. "Just get her back on form for me. If she stops beating herself up she might at least start to use those skills on some worthy targets."

He left the spectral assassin to consider his request, Shadowmere shaking her head beneath the ethereal hand in her mane.

* * *

"_I have for you a very special gift." He took the woman by the shoulders and guided her from what trivia she was distracting herself with. _

_She turned her head to look back at him with wide eyes, curious for the reason of this unexpected kindness. They'd always held sorrow, those deep red orbs. When he met her, they'd been heavy with the weight of recent loss, vacant in her despair. _How ironic_, he had thought to himself on recognising this tired potential recruit for the celebrated Hero, _that the people cry for a champion whom they drive into ruin, yet denigrate and detest my organisation. _The Dark Brotherhood knew the meaning of glory, love, family. It took care of its own, it made no heroes or martyrs and, in death, its members were welcomed into the arms of their dark mother and father._

_He'd known she would accept the invitation the moment a wistful smile had ghosted her lips, eyes glistening with tears. "Tell me more."_

_And he knew he would be glad of her presence in the Sanctuary. It was a joy to teach an interested recruit of the glory of Sithis and she came to him regularly when he was resident in the Sanctuary. He knew she was attempting to justify her own existence, her own actions; if the Dark Brotherhood could turn murder into a legitimate way of life, if the Void really did exist sated only by the passage of souls into it, if death claimed every man making this creed the truest... her actions were validated. Lucien didn't mind for she was not using their traditions to merely justify some petty desires. In fact he could see that she was not struggling with guilt over the lives she had taken but with the fact that she felt none, in contradiction to how society told her she should. With enough teaching she would accept the great and dark things of which she was capable, she would become a most excellent servant of Sithis, and so he greatly enjoyed discussing such topics with her, observing as she emerged further from her chrysalis week by week._

"_I don't like surprises, Lucien," the elf complained as he led her up and out of his private residence. _

_She'd been staying at Fort Farragut since returning after performing the Purification. Despite what a fresh wound it was, she had a distance about her. In fact it had appeared when he finally succeeded in gaining her agreement to perform the ritual. Perhaps it was merely a defensive measure- the woman was no emotionless psychopath, she had loved and lost and the members of his Sanctuary had been a tight knit group into which she had slotted fairly smoothly. The act would be a tremendous challenge without a firm belief in the bigger picture, so distancing herself was a sensible measure, but he was worried she may not come back from this nonetheless._

_Thus he had refrained from explaining her new rank fully just yet and allowed her to reside with him in the fort, where he kept a watchful eye on her recovery and tried to strengthen her resolve in the Brotherhood. In fact she had given him some trouble. After the act she was as an external observer, watching this woman that would slay her own friends and family. Lucien attempted to counter her self-hatred with praise, informing her she had done well and that the Black Hand itself was pleased with her work. But he was met with a frenzied outburst, the elf unwilling to admit the ritual was necessary, un-wanting of a promotion for such a heinous act. Actually this was good; she had spirit in her, the pain had an outlet, it meant the event hadn't broken her._

_Still, she was not ready to roam the land alone, isolated as she would be as Silencer; she suffered nightmares, bouts of depression and fits of anguish, through which Lucien had to guide her. They grew closer in this time, seeing parts of each other they never normally would. He learned she had not always resided in Cyrodiil, coming here when she was young with just her mother. She sometimes dreamt of him, his name slipping out during her sleep between words from her mother tongue. She bore many scars, physical and mental, from all her previous trials. In turn she was intrigued and envious of how soundly he slept, entranced to learn that his life here had begun when he was only fifteen, and surprised at how sensitive he could be when she required aid. _

_As her condition improved they had returned to discussing the philosophy of the Brotherhood and her place in it. She was uncertain how someone like her could truly fit, affected as she had been by recent events, and contrasted herself to the collected and unfeeling composure of Lucien. He enjoyed it, no emotions complicated it, he was a natural- the archetypal serial killer the Brotherhood surely thrived with, she said. _

_This was not entirely true. He could feel, but chose only to do so for those who were deserving. And was it not love and family that bound dark brothers and sisters together under their one mother and father, separating them from common murderers? What was common to them all was the lack of pity or remorse in their work, indeed that was what brought him to her. She was of the same mother as he, but her capacity to love was a blessing, not a hindrance, for it reinforced the Family values and the Dread Father would reward his loving children. _

_She had smiled at this, drawing encouragement from Lucien's words and glad of his companionship. Vowing their deaths would not be for naught, she took his hand and thanked him for ensuring her survival once more. He allowed her this liberty, familiar as they had become with one another now, pleased with her dedication to the Brotherhood but also relieved to see her smile._

_So today he led her out to the secluded spot where the magnificent steed waited, presenting her, a symbol of his pride, a token of his trust and love, a parting gift, knowing also that the mare would do as much to protect his Silencer as carry her swiftly to her work. Her thanks had been equally ceremonious but her eyes burned with a love far beyond that of family. _

The memories swam in his mind as he stroked Shadowmere's mane. The horse had always been a good judge of character, and he wondered if the way she was shaking her head beneath his touch was not her attempt to add input to the discussion.


	8. Patterns

Danasi had been a fool to think that she could return to the Brotherhood. What she had done was unforgivable, the act of a failure. To think she had looked at Cicero the other day and saw a promising future for herself... Lucien had spoken the truth. Why he hadn't hurt her she didn't know. She almost wished he had done something, just walking away had stung. She hadn't seen him since and doubted she would again. What a mistake it was to tell him everything in the foolish hope, however minute, he might hold a sliver of understanding. The verbal reprimand upset the girlish side of her but was hardly enough to alleviate the guilt and now he seemed to have washed his hands of her.

She was finished packing her things when she heard footsteps approaching the bed chamber, which she recognised as the Listener's. _Damn, _she'd hoped to get away before he came to make good on the promise of sending her to see the Night Mother. She'd been wary before, but after Lucien's assessment of her actions she dared not face the wrath of the Unholy Matron. Too late to avoid it now, though. Slipping her bag beneath the bed, she hunched over the desk, toying with the pages of a book sitting atop of it. It was time, he said. Saying nothing, Danasi nodded and followed quietly.

She had tried to avoid any other Sanctuary members since the confrontation but hadn't managed it completely. The Initiates in her room gave her no bother but the vampire child, Babette, had eventually recognised her once she roamed the halls stripped of the amulet's magic; the Hero of Kvatch had become a familiar face to many of the Third Era, illustrated on posters and articles celebrating her exploits. Babette had been amused to discover that the rumours had been true- the Champion _had_ joined the Dark Brotherhood after disappearing from public life. Danasi might have shared in the amusement in another life.

She would have liked the amulet back before she disappeared again, too, the Listener having picked it up after she removed it, but she couldn't bring herself to seriously attempt to steal it back. She wasn't sure why- she had shown herself not to be an honourable person- but she didn't want to wrong this man. She respected him and felt another pang of guilt at the thought of him discovering she was gone again, drop in the ocean though it was. Expression heavy as she followed him, she thought it hardly mattered as she may be about to meet her end now, anyway.

He stopped short on the entrance level and allowed Danasi to approach the coffin alone. Looking back as she climbed the step to the shrine area, the Breton seemed somewhat anxious himself, even as he ushered her onwards. She'd been caught up on the earlier events that had caused the Sanctuary she found in Falkreath to be destroyed and supposed he didn't want another headache over there being two Listeners, even if she didn't want to usurp his position.

She finished the short journey and stood, tense, in front of the shrivelled, leathery corpse of Sithis' bride. It was strange to look upon her physical form like this. It had been more like praying when visiting the Lucky Old Lady to hear her commands and even in the crypt she had spoken with her ghost, icy and beautiful. This was... raw. Though doing nothing to ease her anxiety about the situation, it seemed right. This life was no fairytale.

* * *

Silence. The Listener watched Danasi stand in front of the Lady Death for a few minutes. He sincerely hoped she didn't hear anything, he wouldn't know what it meant if she did. Other than that, he wasn't sure what might happen. Tenet breakers faced the Wrath of Sithis, but never had he heard of a Listener leaving the Brotherhood. Nor was leaving itself explicitly forbidden, but then nobody ever really tried. If you accepted the invitation to join it was likely you found no other way of life as satisfying and so would be committed. If anyone slipped through the net out of dark curiosity only, they were like to go mad and get killed anyway.

He was not sure of her state of mind at the moment. It was clear Lucien had not yet acted on his instructions but he could not deduce how badly their meeting had affected her. It may not have been the wisest thing to bring her here before the ghost had delivered some healing words but he was not comfortable with the downturn she appeared to be taking in the time she had for nothing but brooding. Whatever greeting she received from the Night Mother, or not, it might offer a chance to stimulate her desire to rejoin the family.

Amidst these thoughts the elf turned around. "Did she speak?" he asked.

"No. Nothing," Danasi answered hoarsely, coming back down from the area.

"Well, that keeps things simple, at least. I trust this news is palatable? It is quite the experience to be chosen to hear the Night Mother, after all."

Danasi nodded glumly, her brows ever so slightly furrowed. "I thought she would be angry... "

"Well, perhaps not. You would certainly know if she was displeased. Count yourself lucky." The Listener observed the troubled expression on the elf.

"So I'm, what, just forgiven?"

"I cannot know the mind of the Night Mother, but you have come home and returned to killing in her name, and that is all that is asked of her children." He patted her on the shoulder. "This is my family too, Danasi. If the Night Mother is satisfied with your return I welcome you- if you want to help it."

The elf only nodded, the troubled look about her intensifying. He let his hand remain for a moment longer as he tried to discern what she was thinking.

She looked at him briefly, pained eyes meeting his before she croaked a reply. "I did, I... it doesn't make any sense..."

"It may not need to. Trust in the Night Mother." With a final pat he bade she go down into the Sanctuary to think on things and watched her go. His instincts were telling him to be extra watchful. He'd seen the woman far more distressed but never sensed such a heavy air about her. Where was that damned ghost?

* * *

She'd thought on it and Danasi was getting out of here. She'd waited just until the Listener would be elsewhere and the coast was clear to get to the secret tunnel behind the glass panel in the main hall. When he'd asked her if she wanted to help the Brotherhood, told her he would welcome her back to the family, she was overcome. Just previously planning her disappearance, she was conflicted when her reactions told her she did want to stay, that she was honoured that the Listener and man she had come to respect wanted her there. He seemed to believe in something about her, but she couldn't understand why. He'd sympathised with the feelings that drove her to run but surely nothing could excuse such an act by the Listener of a decimated Brotherhood. But then why nothing from the Night Mother? She was relieved she heard no words but the lack of punishment she surely deserved made her feel she'd been renounced.

The Listener took the silence for a good sign but Danasi felt worthless. He didn't know her. The Night Mother and Lucien did, and they were right to forsake her. She was not worthy of coming back here, she would disappear back into solitude.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she crept silently to the tunnel. She would emerge south of the town and move away immediately, acquiring a new horse on the way to avoid having to come near the main entrance of the Sanctuary again to collect her current mount. She'd wrestled with the idea of leaving behind the letters from Lucien, as it was clear now how he felt about her. She didn't much think they would offer any comfort any longer, quite the opposite actually, but she ended up packing them still.

Slipping behind the stained glass she was met by the cooler, damper air of the tunnel, not warmed by torches. She felt her way along the walls, blind until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She didn't suppose anyone else should be down here but felt safer remaining hidden in the shadows. However, the tunnel soon became pitch black and the going was troublesome, changing direction to skirt around overly rocky sections, dropping swiftly in depth and temperature where it presumably carried her beneath the bay, and Danasi had to light a torch to guide her way and warm her bones.

After some time the track turned upwards and eventually she thought she saw a glimmer of daylight ahead- the exit, hopefully. Pressing on she squinted ahead, yearning to see a door or ladder out of this place. Watching her footing as she climbed a last rough patch, she only saw the figure when she reached the top, where the ground levelled off.

"Where are you going?" Lucien spoke irritably, not turning his head to look at her as he leant nonchalantly against the wall below the exit-way, casual and yet altogether menacing.

Reaction times still swift, her blade was already drawn before she recognised him. Any curiosity over how he knew she would be here was drowned out by recollection, however. He used to wait like that in the halls of Cheydinhal, when Danasi had been summoned to see the Speaker as he checked in on his Sanctuary.

"Well?"

The sharp question interrupted her memories. Realising reality was a long way from her thoughts, her voice broke as she answered. "I'm leaving. That's what you want, isn't it? I won't be troubling the Brotherhood any more..." She looked at him a moment longer, a few metres away and still not looking in her direction, and decided to keep going now. She couldn't handle another encounter like before. Sheathing her blade and stepping quickly she continued towards the exit ladder.

She gave him as wide a berth as she could, though he still had not moved an inch, and placed the torch on the ground beside the ladder. Cautiously, as if expecting it to give her a shock, she grasped a rung with her hands and stepped onto it. Her breath caught as hands seized her shoulders, pulling her back down and she was dazed, head connecting with rock as she was spun round and slammed back into the wall.

"No. Not again." His tone was vicious- beyond the anger and disappointment in their earlier meeting, volume rising far past the growl that had greeted her discovery of him. She was reminded of how he had intercepted her in Bravil and the terror began to creep up, but her head was still spinning and she made only a feeble attempt to push him away. This was met with a shake, her body slamming into the wall once more, a strained attempt by Lucien to contain his rage to non-lethal magnitudes.

He was saying something but Danasi's head was throbbing too much to focus on the words. His voice was angry, affected, his handling of her causing her pain but something she didn't have the strength or the will to fight. She couldn't do this again, and she was glad he'd found her before she'd fled into the world once more because she couldn't do that again either, not really. As her head cleared a little, she reached across her hips and drew her dagger. Holding it by the blade, she brought it up between them and interrupted him. "Just end this, Lucien. I don't know what you want from me." She took his right hand in her left and set it on the handle, closing his fingers around it and dropping her arms to her sides.

She met his eyes briefly, asking for anything other than his constant anger, then closed hers and waited. She shivered when she felt the cold edge of her Blade Of Woe on her neck, but otherwise remained motionless. There must be some poetry in there somewhere, she figured: to die by his hand with the very blade he gifted her on their first meeting.

"_By Sithis, what have you done?" His hand closed around her throat as he closed the last of the distance between them. _

_His appearance a complete surprise, the Silencer was in shock at the violence, stumbling over her own feet under the Speaker's momentum bringing them both crashing to the ground. _

"_What madness has claimed you?" _

_Winded by the impact, losing lung capacity from the weight on top of her and unable to draw breath through the painful grip that tightened by the second around her neck, the Silencer vainly fought against her assailant with rapidly diminishing strength. _

"_You have betrayed me, you have betrayed the Dark Brotherhood. Why?" _

_Confused, trapped, wordless, she pleaded the only way she could, through her eyes, for an explanation. _

"_I am here to end your miserable life..." In his she saw the hurt disappear like a flame doused, in its place naught but the empty eyes of a killer- cold, remorseless, utterly unfeeling even to /i_her,_ and she felt a fear far removed from anything she had experienced in Oblivion._

The pressure increased enough to draw a little blood, sharply rousing Danasi from the memory. She couldn't see his eyes now, hers remaining closed. If this mess was all about to be over, she cared not for the same painful prelude. His whole body pinned her now as he held her on the precipice of the Void like this, for how long she couldn't say. She was not afraid, but wondering if the time was being spent deciding whether to do it or _how _to do it.

"_But... I can see the confusion in your eyes." He relaxed his grip, allowing her to gasp for air but retaining his control. "You... you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" The hand disappeared, the humanity began to return to his eyes as he realised his mistake. _

She was still pinned, still at his mercy, _only this time I have done wrong_ she thought expectantly.

Suddenly she was roughly released. Lucien stormed to the other side of the tunnel, flinging the knife into the dirt. Danasi began to shake as the tension was released and sunk to her haunches, tears wetting her cheeks, more from adrenaline than anything else.

They remained this way a few minutes, each calming down. When he spoke again it was not as harshly as Danasi expected, his voice actually a little harassed. "Why did you come back?"

"I wanted a home again."

Lucien turned around to face her. "But here? You could have started a new life anywhere with that amulet."

She thought for a second before answering, trying to discern whether it was distrust or guarded hope she saw in his eyes. "You were right. I do belong here. I think I started to see that."

His expression didn't change as he considered her. "It just took you two centuries, did it?"

Danasi was reluctant to believe she had just detected a hint of sarcasm. He merely regarded her from across the way, arms folded. Was he hurt by that? Her face contorted in apology over how she hadn't believed it when he had tried to convince her in their time. "I suppose it did... I never did _like_ killing much. You picked a challenge with me, I think."

"A challenge I failed, apparently."

Danasi pulled herself to her feet, leaning on the wall for support. She looked across with apologetic eyes. Even she couldn't believe she had just tried to run away again, after seeking forgiveness only a few days ago for the very same thing. "No... I wasn't in the right mind... I'm not sure I am now... but I don't see where I fit in."

Lucien took a long breath and leant back on the wall. "The Listener would ask for your aid in restoring the Brotherhood to its former strength. That is where you fit. Will you be able to help this time round?"

The hysterical reasoning and anxiety that had driven her to this madness yet again was rapidly melting away with each civil word Lucien spoke. And the Listener had shown nothing but concern for his Brotherhood and had been so accommodating in finding a place for her, despite her past. "Y- yes..." Danasi answered. However, hurt at Lucien's curtness with regard to her conduct after his death, she added almost snidely. "Yes. My attention is in the right place now, so don't worry."

She definitely detected a slight sigh from Lucien, who unfolded his arms and stood up from the wall. "I spoke hastily the other day. I of course appreciate your devotion to me... I did not consider the effects of your experiences."

_The effects. _They were many and varied, Danasi thought. Grief, of course; the need for revenge; hate, despite knowing the others were deceived into participating in Bellamont's plot just as she had been; actuallyunderstanding Bellamont's pain, coming to _sympathise_ with his actions and sickening herself with the thought; and guilt and shame that as Lucien's closest aide she had been unable to prevent his death.

Still, she bowed her head at the apology, already regretting being so impetuous. Though her spirits rose slightly in the knowledge he did not want her dead, she deplored that it had ever come to this. She did feel terrible about giving up on her post. It had been _her _Brotherhood at that point. Listener, a great honour and achievement. She felt hollow for failing, _quitting, _but she knew she hadn't been of sound mind.

* * *

Lucien regarded her as she lamented the past and apologised again. It was not him she should be apologising to. What good were sorrow and apologies at all? She needed to act, for the good of the Brotherhood. He wished she had been strong enough to do that before, too, but he had to console himself with the hope that she would put as much effort into helping the Brotherhood now as she did trying to make amends with him.

He was doubting even these hopes had any ground now that he'd caught her trying to run away again. The Listener had come to him a second time with his concerns over Danasi's worsening mood, instructing Lucien to speak to her at once given the profound effect his words had on the woman. In fact after the Listener's first talk his outlook had begun to soften, so he did go straight to her once he'd thought about what he could say in good conscience, all things considered. But before he got to her he observed her taking the escape tunnel, full pack in tow. In disbelief that she could be absconding again he had swiftly made for the exit point of the tunnel, overground. He could take a direct route around the edge of town whereas the tunnel itself was difficult going and took a winding path, thus he arrived before she reached the end and waited. He gave her a chance in seeing if she actually turned up at the end, in asking her what she was doing in the hope she would prove his assumptions false. So when her answer came, when she actually took a step onto the ladder, his emotions had got the better of him. It had taken a lot of effort not to dispatch her to the Void and end her mockery of what it was to be a sister of the Dark Brotherhood.

Still, he'd been instructed to get the woman back on board and ensure that she would be an asset to the Brotherhood, so he could not voice these thoughts. He pulled himself together and controlled his words. "You can be strong now. You will be." He spoke with conviction that the woman might glean some confidence from his words, from the idea her former tutor believed in her and that she would strive to justify it.

He saw the beginnings of a cautious smile venture onto the elf's face and he worried he had been too soft in his efforts to motivate her. He was still very much ashamed of her actions. He could see it would have been a hard path for her given how she had leant on him much of the way, but he thought he had instilled enough knowledge and pride in her that she would have lead the family onwards. If he admitted to having fear, he might agree that he was actually afraid to analyse how much of his enmity was on behalf of the Brotherhood and how much was, as the Listener put it, due to his own bruised pride. But either way he didn't want her thinking she was absolved of all wrongdoing now. "I cannot forgive it, Danasi, do not ask me," he said in response to her searching eyes, extinguishing the pale light of hope he saw there like in the eyes of Tenet breakers before who hoped to return straight back to their former standing after punishment.

The elf's head dropped. "Of course, you know I wouldn't ask that, you know me better than anyone."

"I knew you." The words escaped without a thought and he scalded himself. When had he become so impulsive? He merely wanted to impart on the woman that she was not out of the woods yet.

She had gone very quiet and the ghost noticed a fresh tear rolling over her cheek, though she tried to turn her head to hide it. She appeared to think about saying something but changed her mind, turning instead back into the tunnel. _Damn_, he couldn't let her return like this, the Listener would wonder why he allowed any of them to reside in his Sanctuary. He called after her firmly. She continued for a few steps before slowing and finally halting, but didn't turn around. "Danasi, come here."

She circled around to face him but did not move closer. "What?" she snapped, all limpness gone, sadness transformed into exasperation. "What do you want from me? I'm not asking you to forgive what I did. I know it was terrible. I just struggled a bit after my _family _murdered my dearest friend and wouldn't let me bury his skinless body parts until I'd gone with them to the crypt, _celebrating _his death the whole way with the real traitor. I can still see it. The smell of damp earth around here reminds me all the time." Lucien was taken aback by the outburst and she took the moment to breathe and calm herself. "I don't want pity and I'm not making excuses... just... can you forgive _me? _You treat me as a stranger and it's like losing you in whole different way. You were my friend, Lucien, my only family for a long time... do you think you ever could?"

Lucien frowned. He knew she'd loved him. He knew how she handled tragedy. He hadn't known until now exactly what she'd had to deal with. She shouldn't have to spell those things out to him let alone do it with sarcasm. The Listener had tried to explain this, hadn't he? She'd run when Martin died, why should it be any different with him? He had singularly saved her from the trauma that would surely have claimed her mind after wiping out her own Sanctuary. It was only surprising it was no worse. Perhaps he was being far too harsh. He cared deeply and unwaveringly about the Dark Brotherhood and she had shaken his belief in her when she abandoned it, but he'd come to see he had no excuse for expecting her to handle the situation much better than she had.

He was still aware of their current location, however. "Why would you run again?" he redirected with a sigh. She always ran, that's what she was doing when she joined his Sanctuary. He supposed he was only asking on the off-chance she might give him more information that would make his assignment easier. And she did.

"You're so angry with me... and you've called me a traitor. If you think so, then I'm not worthy of staying here."

The face he looked into harked back to the day he gave her her duties as Silencer, silently asking him to say something to allow her to stay with him, to convince her she would see him again, but so respectful of his orders that she would never utter the words. She _listened_ to him, and it had driven her here. He had the power to persuade her to stay, indeed build her self-esteem so much that she would do great work again, as the Listener desired.

He would use it. "No, no, you're not a traitor. I'm angry with your actions, but... I have been blind to the strengths of love and grief. Even the Night Mother appears to have accepted your return. I've no cause to treat you like this."

Though aiming to mend what he wounded before so that she might work at her best, he was not speaking pure fantasy. He found himself stepping closer to comfort his former Silencer and accepted, as she buried her face in his ethereal robes, that a portion of his anger was because she simply meant something to him and her actions meant he had no choice but to chastise her.

After a few moments Danasi looked at him gratefully, speaking uncertainly. "Could we please not tell the Listener about this...? I've already disappointed you, I don't want to ruin what belief he seems to already have in me..."

She was looking forward, and wanted a fresh start to do things right. Silently he nodded and, had he still possessed the need or ability to breathe, would have struggled under the tightness with which she squeezed him.

* * *

_**Author: **I loved some of this and not other bits, but I tried to do a few things so anything you took from it or noticed, however small, would be interesting to hear. (Also, too smushy hug? I couldn't resist)._


	9. Allegiances

The Listener was disturbed from drawing up contracts by a harried knocking on his chamber door. Looking up from his papers but not rising, he called out curiously. "Enter..?"

A flustered looking Danasi hurried in followed by his ghost, coming all the way over to his desk just short of leaning on the opposite side. She was dressed in a loose tunic and trousers as she was earlier that day but, by Sithis, was bloodied at the neck. Her haste did not seem out of distress, however, so he only enquired as to what was going on, setting down his quill.

"Listener, sir, I've just come to say that I pledge myself to the Brotherhood, to help the family. And apologise... for how I was earlier today. I didn't come across as very grateful or positive..."

"You did not," the Listener stood and moved around the desk, waiving the skipped greeting with a brief nod to each of them.

"I am honoured you want to bring me into your family, and I do appreciate everything you've done for me here." She stopped as abruptly as she'd started and seemed to be searching for something else to say. "Oh, I'm sorry. For barging in, and just talking like this. Forgive me. Oh, I must not be making any sense," she added before he could respond.

"This is a little unusual, yes. Your mood has changed so suddenly and I've never heard you speak so many words. You haven't been messing with Babette's ingredients, have you? She doesn't label them, you know." He knew of course Lucien must have actually spoken to her this time. The effect he had on her was remarkable.

She smiled a little at the joke. "No... no, we've just been talking again..." she motioned over to Lucien, "and I just realised what an idiot I've been."

"He didn't say that, did he?" the Breton gave the ghost a questioning look. He wouldn't be surprised if that would be his idea of patching things up. The elf shook her head, looking at the floor. "Better than your last conversation..?" the Breton enquired at the both of them.

She nodded. "Yes. We've sort of worked it out..." Still, she cast a look back at him to confirm, the ghost bowing his head slightly in answer.

"Funny ways you two work things out," the Listener commented, pointing out the fresh, bloody cut on Danasi's neck and raising an eyebrow in Lucien's direction.

She smiled as one would when embarrassed, bringing her hand to the wound and wincing slightly as though only just remembering it was there. "We, er... had a lot to work out."

The Breton cast a dubious look over the pair of them. "Well, that's your business, I suppose, but would you two be able to refrain from taking any other weapons to each other, or anyone else in the Sanctuary, at least for while, please?"

The pair bowed their heads and the Listener put his palm to Danasi's injury, healing it swiftly with his restoration skills. "This is why ordinary people don't give knives to their children," he muttered under his breath.

Danasi blushed a little, just making out the Listener's comment.

"_Don't be so juvenile, my intentions are plain."_

_The newly christened Silencer shyly acquiesced, sitting forward in the bath tub to allow her Speaker, now bizarrely acting handmaiden, to tend the wound by her shoulder blade, cleared by the water of blood. There really was a lot of it. _

_He had come to her assistance on hearing the commotion as she tried to extricate herself from her leathers, struggling due to the sheer amount of blood which had dried over her, making the task even more difficult than usual. She had become distressed, remembering from whom most of it had come when her closest friend in the Sanctuary had not been caught unawares during the Purification, now trapped in a skin of her blood._

_Calming her with warm hands and a voice that brought her back to the present, he cut away the offending articles. She recoiled at the lifting of her red-soaked under-shirt._

"_I have seen a woman before. You appear wounded." On brief inspection beneath the epicentre of crimson on her side, he was satisfied the true source of her trouble was not a stomach wound of her own. So much blood, to have soaked through the leathers as she'd held her friend and tried to explain. Was it mere practicality or a message, then, when Antoinetta had sunk the knife into her back? _

_She withered under the indignity of being exposed as the layers fell away, the blood that made her grey skin appear burgundy a taint that marked her as a liar, a betrayer, one who would bring about more familial treason on Marie, one who did not kill without feeling. She gladly sunk beneath the waters, hiding the imposter in the warmth and silence. _

_She let her hair conceal her face as her now sole sibling addressed her injury. He seemed unaware of the reason for her shame, implying her state of undress was of no concern instead, but Danasi had never known the man to be oblivious to much. Whether intentionally allowing her some privacy while tending the wound or not, she appreciated that her remorse could remain hidden._

_As she finished bathing alone the water was red, her atrocity and her shame washed from her in one, a baptism in blood. She drew another to ensure she was clean and silently promised to leave her regret here, dripping from the iron bars over the rough water outlet with the rest of the bath water. She was his Silencer now, he had ordered this, she was supposed to kill without pity. He had allowed her this moment of weakness but she would do her best beyond the door of this room to make him proud and serve as she was supposed to._

As the woman left, a slight lift in her gait evident as she passed through the doorway, the Listener wondered which one of the men stood in his chambers she was really pledging herself to. She was too wrapped up in her feelings to truly put the family first, not yet.

"Lucien," he called to the ghost who remained, waiting for instructions. "You pledge me your blade but your time will do just as well." He returned to his desk, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he continued ever-so-seriously. "This paperwork is turning out to be absolute _murder._ We might get it done before midnight if you help me out."

His elf might be on the mend but he wasn't going to get away with almost slitting her throat unscathed.


	10. New beginnings

_**Author: **The final chapters are upon us! The other little thing I posted during this story ('For the love of Sithis') provides a little insight into Lucien's actions and how he treats Danasi, but it should be fine without reading that. I hope it makes sense anyhow.  
_

_I'm glad people have enjoyed this. I would never have gone for an angst had it not been prompted on SKM. Nor tried anything so long, but it snowballed and really became an exercise in characters. Thank you for reading and reviewing, writing with followers waiting for the next update has inspired me to write something longer with more plot things going on. It's been fun! But what am I going to do with my days now...?_

* * *

"Are you ready for some proper contracts now?"

Danasi nodded and took the seat the Listener was offering, by the fireplace.

"Good. I'll give you one to get started. Complete that as well as your other work and I'll have a lot more for you. I've noted quite a few already that I think you'd manage well. Drink?" He offered her wine, which she politely declined, opting for water instead. "Wise in this line of work, I suppose. Pressures of the top get to me sometimes, though," he poured his own and they raised their goblets in toast. "Relax, Danasi, this isn't an inquisition."

Danasi tried to sit more comfortably, taking a look around the Listener's chambers. His personal effects and living area contained within, it doubled as his office for more private matters. "You manage it well, sir," she responded, taking a sip.

"Yes? Flattery will get you everywhere, sister. I rather thought I'd picked up a few grey hairs by now."

She rather liked the Listener's jokes, they reminded her not to fall too far into her own dark introspection. "I mean you manage the Sanctuary well. There seems to be more to do than just listen, sir."

The Breton nodded at the comment, taking a gulp of his wine. "Call me Matthias."

Danasi graciously accepted the information, studying him for a second. He did _look_ like a Matthias, now he'd said it. "Matthias... you're what a Listener should be... you know what's going on, keep everyone in order."

"It _is_ rather like running a house of unruly children sometimes. Head of a family, one could say."

Danasi couldn't help but smile. That such a little thing could achieve it, quite strange. "The Night Mother said Ungolim was weak, you know. My Listener, in Cyrodiil, I mean."

"Then it must be true. Did you see that?"

"I do now. The traitor was in the Brotherhood for years and years, several members were killed, and yet he did nothing... why would he risk the whole family? I know you'd never let anything get that far..."

"Well, we've had some trouble... but I don't intend on any more, no. I'm glad you believe in me." He nodded in thanks and drank some more.

"I don't know if I'd ever have been a good Listener, not how I was."

"You held the post for a while, no?"

Danasi nodded, eyes settling nowhere in particular. "Some months... I'm not sure. There weren't many people to manage, so I did just listen. Arquen did all the work, really... like she really cared..."

"She was the... unwelcome colleague?"

Danasi nodded, face still betraying a hint of distaste at the name. "It might have been different if she wasn't there... who knows."

The Breton caught her eye as he leant back and raised his drink again. "Well I'm glad to have you here. I'd like you taking contracts direct from me, and to help me restore the tradition to this place. Get the new recruits on the right page, treat each other like family but keep 'em scared of their seniors, Tenet abiding, that sort of thing."

"Oh, these are... honours, sir..."

He gave her a look that quieted her.

"Oh, er, Matthias. Sorry. I'm not too new for all this? I'm embarrassed at what a drama I've caused, really..."

"Danasi, I don't need you to start from the bottom. I've heard of your exploits back in Cyrodiil and you're clearly above the low level work you've been doing here. Like I said, do this first job well and I'll have a lot more. I suppose if you muck that one up I'll have to rethink, but I've no doubt you'll manage."

Danasi looked down, abashed.

Matthias leant forward, speaking quietly as though sharing a secret. "Look, you swore your allegiance to the family the other day but I know it's not as black and white as that. You're still trying to prove yourself to Lucien, or to me, aren't you? I wish you wouldn't. You could be my superior, really, or at least my equal. I don't believe two Listeners have ever met before. I don't want to be your teacher, I want to work _with _you. You were the Champion of Cyrodiil as well, for Sithis' sake. I'm rather impressed to meet you."

Danasi was blushing. "I haven't been _impressive_ since I got here, Matthias."

"If that's true then only because you dote on him too much. Your work shows your skill. I don't wish to intrude but any change I've seen in you has always followed something he's said to you."

Danasi looked back on her time in Dawnstar and shifted in her seat. "Well, I care what he says..."

"But a little too much, from my perspective. Your confidence is wrapped up in him and now... well, he's not the boss any more. And he's not anything but the ghost of another assassin. Forgive me, but I know unrequited love and it can ruin a person. And Lucien is a cold man... a perfect brother, here, but I'm not sure he'll ever return anything... human."

The elf was quiet, thinking on his words.

"Don't hesitate to tell me if I've overstepped my mark, please. I only tell you as a friend, Danasi."

Though she might have become defensive and kept her business her own, she couldn't be angry with her Listener. Somewhere within her she knew he made sense. How long had she known Lucien, and had she ever felt anything more than his project assassin? All her efforts to gain his attention were through her work. She shook away her doubts for the moment though. "How can you be sure? We worked everything out..."

The Listener wondered whether he should tell her why Lucien came to speak to her. True, he _had_ manipulated the situation to ensure she would regain ownership of her skills for the benefit of his Sanctuary, but he felt a callous bastard to reveal it. He ran a hand through his hair while sighing awkwardly. "Ah, Danasi... now I don't know what you talked about but... I did have to persuade Lucien to go and make things right with you. I do believe he was bothered by having to give you a hard time but... dear sister, I don't know if you would have won out over business if left to his own devices. I'm sorry I interfered but... I thought it would be better for both of you."

Danasi frowned, trying to keep herself together in front of Matthias. "So, what, it was just a job to come cheer me up?"

"No, no, I didn't tell him what to say, I just said he was being unreasonable and ought to rethink. You were in a kind of limbo... and anything I said or even the Night Mother didn't seem to get to you..." Matthias hovered uncertainly, unsure how the elf would take it. However bad he felt for her and about what he did she ought to know the truth of it, practically bouncy as she'd been when they'd come to him the other day. She stood up and paced the room a little, frowning. "You all right?" he asked.

Eventually she steadied herself and returned to the chair. "Mmm. I'll have that drink, if that's all right," she answered, handing him her goblet.

* * *

The air was somehow colder in the Sanctuary. Snow was a constant in The Pale but it deepened by Frostfall becoming near impassable sometimes at the dawn of a new year. The fires always burned in the dark halls of the Sanctuary but the change without was nearly tangible in the air. Seasons had passed since Danasi's arrival and she reckoned she had grown colder with the winds, too. A lifetime ago, it seemed, that she had rejoiced and wept over the reunion with her old friend, her love.

No, merely her colleague and obsession_. _The fog had begun to clear when the Listener had confided in her his worries. Gradually she was able to look somewhat impartially on Lucien's behaviour towards her, compare it with that of her friend Matthias, reflect on the times when the ghost had a living body, and she saw not much else but self-service. She was an asset to him, a charge to be proud of only while she performed as intended.

She couldn't blame him; he had never claimed to be anything other than a servant of Sithis. Still, it hurt. There was something magnetic about the man, even in afterlife, and she couldn't shake her attachment, her _adoration_, despite the ache it caused her now she recognised the nothing she received in return. So over the months she chose to distance herself, keeping busy with contracts, staying away from the Listener's thrall save when unavoidable, and then keeping interaction neutral and minimal.

Though she endured the pain of loss, in this way she was able to move forward. Her energies were channelled into her work, which showed the excellence Matthias had predicted, and she did so under her own identity, refusing to take back the amulet when he had offered the return of her property. She became a revered and senior member of the Sanctuary, gaining notoriety and her own private quarters in lieu of a formal ranking system. She learned of real friendship with Matthias and was able to focus on the Night Mother as the source of her understanding of their dark order. Whether instilled by the Night Mother herself or sprung from her own acceptance of her new life, she came to draw comfort from the unholy corpse and would regularly look upon her in private communion. Only in moments of more pensive contemplation was she saddened that she could not glow in the pride her Speaker might have shown over his ward's final passage into perfect, cloudless darkness.

* * *

Lucien watched Danasi head up to the Night Mother's shrine and remain there for some time. She visited often now and worked a lot, contracts direct from the Listener, completing them well. He was pleased. In fact, she'd done all this without his influence, rarely speaking with him much any more. He sometimes wanted to say he missed her company, regretted that whatever love she had for him had died away or had to be hidden for her to progress like this, but he wasn't entirely sure it was true. He was not well versed in emotion. However, she had grown distant many months ago and when he noticed that he was not content with this development, for whatever reason, he'd begun thinking on his past experiences and analysing his current ones.

He turned his attention back to the immense stained glass depiction of Sithis. He liked to sit here and ruminate when the place was empty. He had more understanding of Sithis and the Void than he ever had when he was alive, but it still pleased him to mediate on this insight when in the mortal realm. Footsteps grew louder as Danasi descended the stairs and made her way over to the table. He looked over to see her preparing a meal from the food laid out there. "Good evening," he offered civilly.

"Is it? I lose track of the time down here if I'm not preparing for a contract." She nodded a greeting, speaking back coolly, inoffensive and unfamiliar.

"Do I disturb your meal? I would join you but I have no need for food any longer. Unfortunately." Good food definitely _was_ something he missed.

Content her plate contained everything she desired, she took a seat at the end of the table. "No. Remain, please. Food has become merely a necessity to me at this point."

_Not entirely true._ "There is an Eidar wedge on the shelves, you know," Lucien commented, nodding in its direction before turning back to the glass wall.

Danasi gave him a queer look and poured herself some water, but moments later she stood and retrieved the cheese. "How did you know I prefer this?"

"I have eyes," is all he said. "Well, I can see, anyhow," he added after a moment.

She made a slight uncomfortable groan at the tasteless joke and proceeded to eat in silence. She was so cold now. Efficient. Excellent. She was finally the untroubled assassin he'd hoped she would become, but she didn't seem like herself any more. She hadn't just shut him out, she'd shut down a huge side of herself. But then so had he, once. Perhaps not consciously and perhaps it was never as large or complete as with her, but he knew it was there. It had just lain dormant for most of his life. Must it be the same in afterlife?

He was a logical man and he had pondered the situation on countless nights. On the face of it he should have no reason to begrudge the elf's separation from himself. She had broken no Tenets, borne no disrespect to the Brotherhood, and in fact in doing so had become a most excellent assassin and devout follower of the Night Mother. And had that not been his ultimate hope for the woman when she accepted his invitation all those years ago?

Nor would he say it was ego that spawned this discontent. She had surpassed him in rank back in their time, albeit he was not around to witness the event, yet he bore no ill-feeling. He was not a jealous man, he had taught her in order to build a strong family, not to find self-satisfaction her success, so her progress without his guidance was also no bother. Similarly he did not attribute this feeling to the loss of an ardent personal follower; he cared not how his subordinates went about their work or regarded him, within reason, only that they served their Dread Father well.

A man considered unfeeling by all who knew him might never reach a conclusion as to why the loss of one person from their daily life would bother them, and indeed his reaction to the elf's rejection confounded Lucien for many months. But Lucien was not such a man. He had loved, and in the seasons he had to study his current position he came on one last avenue of inquiry- that he was bothered by her rejection because he did simply miss her company, her friendship. He knew by now she had become more than a simple guild-mate to him, but it was one thing to be actively pleased for someone in their successes and quite another to wish that he could share in their future.

He had only believed himself capable of true feeling for one who knew him before, but he eventually recognised in himself a care for Danasi and a will for them to return to a relationship closer than that of occasional necessary co-workers. However, he had also studied their previous interactions and realised that, having ignored his own emotional side, he had never treated her as anything other than an assassin. She had probably put a distance between them to save herself from an exhausting life of giving and never receiving, for he knew the extent to which she cared about him and to which she had already suffered due to this imbalance.

Only now, after ruminating on his long ignored experiences with love and friendship, did he see that they would not be anything closer until he gave her something in return. His memories guided him in this effort. O_pen up, let people in_. Simple enough words.

He allowed her to finish her meal in peace before speaking. "You are doing well lately."

"Thank you," she responded politely.

"And are you... well?"

"Well enough, as things stand." She stood to tidy her plates.

He turned in his chair from the image. "Would you not speak with me? Any contracts... the Void? I am far more knowledgeable in this subject nowadays."

Danasi neatly set the stack of plates to right before answering. "I know. And no, thank you."

She turned to leave and Lucien found himself standing up and calling after her. "Danasi, I wouldn't have you avoiding me like this. I... I know I am the cause of your distance. Perhaps I can explain why it needn't be so."

The elf stopped and turned swiftly. She made firm eye contact, assessing him. "Not here," she said seriously. He followed as she lead the way to privacy. Closing the door to her quarters, she stood neatly and far from him. When the ghost didn't say anything she stifled a sigh. She wanted to hear what he was thinking, but quickly. "What did you wish to explain?"

The ghost shifted. "I fear my treatment of you has been unfair. I am glad you are advancing here, but I wish it were not so that you must avoid me to do so."

"I too am glad I am settled now. I feel like I am at home. But you needn't speak of this, we talked this over long ago, it is done."

"But I would again. They were mere words before, I did not know true regret or forgiveness."

Danasi maintained a perfectly neutral composure but eyed the ghost suspiciously. The Listener had once told her that he'd practically had to strong-arm Lucien into offering her an olive branch after learning of her desertion. Had his forgiveness all been a show? Was this just more manipulation, and to what end? "And what do you hope to achieve by bringing this up again?"

"I wish to mend this rift, if possible."

This was not Matthias' influence. He was content that the two got along civilly enough and the Brotherhood was prospering. Furthermore he had been the one to warn her of becoming so wrapped up in Lucien. Danasi wondered whether the spectre would go such lengths to simply retrieve a lost admirer. Perhaps his ego was suffering without his doting elf. "What purpose am I to serve?"

"Sorry?"

Danasi shook her head, dismissing the comment. Despite so long at a safe distance there was something still so immediately bewitching about his presence. "We must remain like this, Lucien... Unrequited love is... no pleasure." She looked away and stepped aside in indication that he might leave.

So his deductions had been correct. "I know I have never returned your feeling, or even treated you as a friend should. I might make this better now..."

She glared at the unmoving spectre. Pinching the bridge of her nose she said what she might once have considered too hurtful. "Lucien, you don't know what love is. You don't _feel. _It doesn't matter, but you can't help this." Why worry about her words when it was true- his feelings wouldn't be hurt by them for he had none.

_A fair comment,_ Lucien thought. But she didn't know the whole truth of it. "You are wrong, though I admit I have not engaged with such emotions for a long time, or around many people." But she wouldn't know that, would she, because he hadn't _let her in. _

Was the man so deluded, or were all psychopaths such convincing actors when they wanted something, for she could swear he was being more sincere than she had ever seen him. "What would you propose to do?"

He drew himself up and took a breath. This was unfamiliar ground but it had to be done for anything to change. It couldn't be that hard. O_pen up. _Simple enough words. "Firstly, apologise for ignoring your feelings... and our friendship. I neglected my own emotions a long time ago and didn't acknowledge them, in myself or others."

Danasi appreciated the sentiment but didn't really believe him. She would not go through any more turmoil, even if it meant continuing apart as they had been. "Thank you, but you don't need to apologise for the way you are. I was a fool to think how I did about an assassin. Please just go. Things are fine now."

"It is quite understandable you are sceptical, but I do know emotion, Danasi. That is why I ask if we can't reconcile."

She only looked away, arms folded. She would not believe him, and justifiably so. He knew he must give her something real, open up like he never did in the first place. He was not certain such an admission would improve things between them or make it worse, but it seemed to him his only option. _"Secondly, _I must apologise for forcing so much guilt on you over my death. It... was not mere bad fortune that they found me, yet you've thought this whole time that had you returned sooner it would have ended differently." He had thought on this a lot in the past months. He drew from his own experiences, visualising Danasi's ordeal from his own perspective in an attempt to empathise, for empathy did require a conscious effort in him, and he had realised how callous his reaction to Danasi's confession must have seemed after somewhat experiencing the events from her position.

Her composure cracked as she frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lucien breathed again. "Applewatch held a significance to me... this became known to Ungolim who, I suppose, wagered I might return there at some time."

Danasi's frown deepened and her voice lost some of the cold carefulness it had assumed lately. "Why would you go there knowing that?"

"Sentimentality I suppose. The situation did not look promising through any course of action. I thought if it might be my last act it should be something meaningful to me."

Danasi stared questioningly, lost for words.

Lucien elaborated slightly. "I sought to ensure I had righted an old friend. The Draconis contract was... a personal effort."

Danasi was being pulled one way by her affectation over the personal admission from her brother's last hours, and the other by her horror at hearing he sabotaged his own survival. She slowly stepped towards him. "You _knew_ they knew... and you went there...?" Her cadence increased with her pace. "While I was running around thinking I might stop it? When I didn't have a _chance?" _She shoved him as she hissed the last word. He stepped back absorbing the blow easily enough, though his form flickered with the disturbance. Danasi paced back to prevent herself doing anything further to the spectre while she processed the information.

"I didn't know they would all be there, there were other places to look. I knew you'd find the traitor, whatever."

Tears of anger and disbelief had filled her eyes from nowhere despite her best efforts to remain cold to him. "That's all I was to do? Find the traitor? I wanted to save you!"

"And that is why I apologise. I hold some of the blame for what happened and yet I've let you carry it all this time."

She looked daggers at him. "If you'd said something, I might have prepared myself. I could have said _goodbye._ "

That look bothered him. "I did not act rightly, I know. As I said I was not... perceptive of emotions then. I focussed on the business at hand and I ignored yours." Truth was, he'd used her. Of course her job would always have been to root out the traitor, but he'd neglected to acknowledge what he was to her and machinated his own plans without a thought of how it might end for her.

Danasi stood tense, tearful. "And now you come, out of the blue, to say sorry by telling me you chose to walk to your death rather than help, rather than come with me?" She shook her head in confusion. She wished she'd made him leave earlier but her curiosity had gotten the better of her... _curiosity killed the cat, _isn't that what they said?

He looked down for a second from the mirror she held to his actions. He'd scolded her for mourning the death for which she felt responsible, and eventually acted the gracious one for telling her what she did was merely understandable. He felt almost cruel revealing that she went through all that and everything previous because of his conscious ignorance. He looked her back in the eye. "I come to confess it, Danasi. I have been unfair... in hiding it, in judging your actions. I forgive you, _I_ did this to you. I now ask _your_ forgiveness."

Her careful stance crumbled as the news sunk in, but she could think on only one thing. "I could have saved you..? But you didn't let me..? You should have let me..." The distance she'd built dissipated, her feelings not gone but merely buried, uprooted now with this confession from Lucien. "If you'd come with me we'd have seen them coming, we'd have been stronger together..." The tears began to wet her cheeks as she looked at Lucien with betrayed and bereft eyes, voice hurt and trembling but gentle. "You should have come with me, I could have protected you- I would have protected you..."

The sight of what his words did to his old sister stirred a long unfelt pang in his chest. Funny, how the mind creates pain where it thinks it should despite not possessing the physical parts any longer. _Simple enough words._ He drew close and steadied the elf, words to comfort her coming unthinkingly now. "I should have, I'm sorry, I wronged you. But it is done, and we're here now, shh, we're here now."

For so long she'd avoided him to stop becoming this mess. The only way she'd managed to pull herself together and move on was to distance herself. It hadn't been too hard after considering he might have never held any real affection for her throughout their time together. The care he gave was quite possibly simply to ensure one good assassin remained operational. But this, now, felt different. His grasp was more comforting than when he'd held her before and she didn't need to listen to his words to find healing power in his tone. Anything personal she had learnt about him was told with careful measure, even ambiguity at times. Never had she received such a heartfelt, unprovoked admission.

Perhaps it was this feeling that caused her to disregard her precautions and kiss him. How often she had longed to, sure she would never be able to communicate the depth of her love through words alone, but hardly daring to even imagine such an imposition on her Speaker, yet now she actually did it without a thought. Her tears soon ceased, though those present mingled between them, and she gradually calmed, worries floating away as he kissed back.

He had not expected it. It was a few moments before his reactions took hold, falling on the side of reciprocation, surprisingly. It was not sexual, but he lost himself a while in the intensity, something that never happened any more other than when indulging his blood-lust. It was their forgiveness, healing, reunion in one wordless act.

Eventually they pulled apart, neither sure which had initiated the break. Voice quiet and hoarse, Danasi looked earnestly at the ghost, who seemed a little more real now. "Lucien... I would give my whole self to you now if I knew this is real... forgive me for not knowing pure affection from you... I only have your word."

Lucien looked on his former protégé, finally grown into her darkness, only succeeding after separating herself from him. And now she was willing him back into her life on his word he would enter this time as a friend. Once, he had ignored her nature focussing on his singular aims instead and it had all but destroyed her. He would not be repeating the same mistake. "I believe it is, but I am not familiar with these feelings... I would not hurt you any more, so this cannot be..." He hesitantly removed his hands from her and created a little more space between them.

Danasi felt rather crestfallen at his admission, though appreciated the honesty. Before she could say anything, however, he continued, "...for now. For today, would you not speak with me?" He gestured to the door.

A gentle smile slowly spread across her face, starting in the eyes, and she dried off her cheeks, straightening up and nodding assuredly. "I hear you are a great deal more knowledgeable on the Void nowadays, I would love to hear about it."

~ o-O-o ~

* * *

_**Note:** I hope the hint of a story around Applewatch and the Draconis family isn't too vague or forced in here. Lucien going to Applewatch never made sense to me- there's a paper trail showing he knows about it so what's to stop the Black Hand knowing also? And considering the other measures the DB takes for secrecy would he not have several locations he could use as safe houses if need be? Also I read another fic somewhere around here where the farm featured in Lucien's life at some point, so I suppose it's a little ode to that and a reason for going to that damn farm._

_Anyway I hope you enjoyed their proper reunion! Was a little scared as he is OOC from what we see in the games, but she deserves at least an apology and kiss, right? I think _we _deserved it._


	11. Epilogue

_Time._

_The word barely held meaning outside of Nirn. The change was felt like a shift in the ether, a momentary breeze in the perfect stillness of a cold winter midnight, and just as quickly the silence returned. Her absence was but a flicker in the eternal cold flame of the Void, ever burning for the stream of souls that fed it it never ceased. The Night Mother sensed all her children, all at once, in worship, birth, treachery, death. Like the link a mother has with child alerting her when harm has befallen it, she knew when a Listener heard no more. But her presence was a constant, just further from her embrace. Her soul had always belonged to her no matter the distance, marked by Sithis at the moment of her emergence from the womb, and it always would be. Her presence became stronger, devout, repentant, but she would not receive a sign, a response, for the Night Mother only spoke to her Listener, and only spoke of those marked for death. The lives of mortals were fleeting and in this flicker were not the signs of betrayal, only momentary weakness- weakness the Night Mother may have deplored but for the foresight of her Dread Father. He knew his children, their intentions, fates, now and tomorrow. Her heart belonged to the darkness, choosing her was right, the time hardly relevant to any but those on Nirn. A Listener never stopped listening until they too were claimed by death._

_Time..._


End file.
